


two bitten hearts

by stormtongue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Loki (Marvel), Bottom Thor (Marvel), Double Penetration, Drugged Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Hallucinations, M/M, Mutual Non-Con, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, shameless self indulgence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-02 17:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16309871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormtongue/pseuds/stormtongue
Summary: They are princes, not playthings. This is madness; disgusting, perverted, demeaning madness. If only Odin could see them now.When Thor and Banner escape their imprisonment on Sakaar, the Grandmaster threatens to do Loki harm. Against all his better judgment, Thor comes back to rescue him, but the Grandmaster has something much more sinister than the arena up his sleeve.





	1. return

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loxxlay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxxlay/gifts).



> In case the tags didn't make it clear enough, this fic has some _bad shit,_ so please be warned. 
> 
> written for [loxxlay's](https://loxxxlay.tumblr.com) [Grandthorki Day 2018 :)](https://grandthorkiday.tumblr.com)

Thor is doing fine. Well, at least better than he’s been doing recently. He’s told himself that he can outrun the loss, outrun the pain, even defeat it, and he’s finally starting to believe it. For one, he is a massive step closer to doing so now that he’s escaped that damned eyesore of a “bedroom”. Out in the open he is more exposed, but the freedom is a nice change. He has a plan now, or at least the start of one. He has an ally,  _ maybe _ two if he’s lucky. There’s a whole lot more he doesn’t have, but that’s the last thing he wants to think about right now.

 

Even without Asgard in imminent danger, Thor would want to leave Sakaar as soon as possible. Now that he needn’t fear paralyzing shock every time he sees the Grandmaster or Valkyrie or any glimpse of neon-clad minion, he knows he’ll figure something out. He has Banner back, now, and that’s… probably good. Maybe not. He’s undecided; the Hulk presents opportunities that Banner sorely lacks. They don’t have a ship, not yet at least, but that can be fixed. Doesn’t Banner have like… four Ph.Ds? He should be able to fix the Quinjet. If not, well… surely there is a ship for them somewhere amongst the mountains of unwanted junk.

 

There’s another thing, though. Thor doesn’t have Loki. Moreover, he isn’t even sure where Loki is, or what he is doing, which is… not out of the ordinary. Maybe he’s still with the Grandmaster, doing whatever it is he did to gain so much favor. Thor still prefers not to think about that. He can’t expect Loki’s help anymore, nor does he even want to ask for it. The thought comes with a tinge of regret, but Thor is fairly sure that stopping Hela and saving Asgard will be much easier without his brother.

 

But it is okay. More than any moment in the last few days, Thor has hope. Hela is just another errant sibling; Ragnarok just another silly prophecy. Problems aren’t the end of the world, he reminds himself, but another chance to do the right thing. 

 

The shriek of sirens, the acrid, chemical-polluted air, and flashing billboards high above the filthy ground remind him that he isn’t a hero, however, at least not right now. Right now, he is a fugitive, and he’s positive that Sakaar will not give him up without a fight. Fortunately, he has already won one of those, and he’s not planning on losing again anytime soon. 

 

As Banner tries to diagnose the extent of the damage to the Quinjet, Thor gazes out the cracked and musty front bay window, searching the trash heaps piled high around them and his similarly-fuddled thoughts for traces of something, or someone, that could get them out of here. Even if Valkyrie is too content with her indolent, booze-soaked life to leave, the least she could do would be to steer them in the right direction. She  _ must _ be capable of at least that. Loyalty used to mean something to her, and it is a hard trait to shake. But if Thor hasn’t already convinced her that Asgard is more worthy of it than Sakaar, he doesn’t know if anything will. 

 

Thor bites his tongue and wonders whether Loki’s magic can teleport them away from here. It’s never not worked before, he thinks. It would be  _ just like _ Loki to stay here because he  _ wants  _ to and not even bother mentioning to his only brother that he could give him the sole thing he currently needs. If he ever sees Loki again, at least before they leave… he will ask for help. But, as ever, Loki is the last thing he can count on.

 

Bruce looks up, seemingly decided on something, and turns to Thor. By the look on his face, the prognosis isn’t positive. “Well, Thor, I-”

 

He’s cut off, though, because a booming voice echoes through the tiny Quinjet cabin and a gold sparkle catches the corner of Thor’s eye. Both of them turn apprehensively to see what the fuss is about. 

 

“Loyal Sakaarians! Hear ye, hear ye!”

 

The hologram system from the arena must work everywhere on Sakaar, because the Grandmaster in massive scale now stands projected before a skyscraper unnervingly close to where his escaped prisoners now hide. Thor freezes. Their mission is about to get much harder. 

 

“I have some bad news,” he announces. “My beloved-exalted-champion has turned up missing.” He says the epithet like he’s said it a million times, and Thor is forcibly reminded that  _ time works different here _ . The mix of gladness and guilt that Bruce has no idea just how long he was subjected to that madman confuses Thor too much to mull on, so he shakes it off. This cannot be his biggest problem right now.

 

Instead, he’s almost grateful for the Grandmaster’s quick stream-of-consciousness manner of speaking pulling him out of the places of his mind where he doesn't want to linger, but then he catches the next part, and he wants to go back. 

 

“...that seductive, ah,  _ lord _ of thunder seems to have stolen him! Thor, Thor, that is his name, right?” The massive hologram turns its head back, nodding slightly, then returns his gaze back to his kingdom, “mm, Thor, I know you’re out there! What’s the saying, ah… you can run but you can’t hide?” He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You really can’t do either. So, ah, this Lord Thor… bring my champion back! Because,” he holds up a finger, smiling like he’s about to let Thor in on the most wonderful surprise, “I have something of yours. Well, I have had him.” He laughs to himself at this. Thor is starting to have a very bad feeling about what’s coming next. “And I think he’s yours. Hard to tell these days. Anyways. Ugh… it pains me to say this! It really does. But this is what you’ve done to me. You know how much I liked your brother, this, this Loki. But you’ve left me with no other choice.”

 

Thor’s heart drops. He knew Loki had been with the Grandmaster, not fighting in the arena like Thor, but still somehow working into his favor. But with Thor’s escape, things have changed, and Loki is still there… trapped, it seems. Thor would have never expected that he’d be putting Loki in danger with any of his actions. Seeing him in this position is almost… disappointing. A letdown that Loki isn’t getting out of this mess himself, a letdown that Loki isn’t helping them… sometimes entirely a letdown of a little brother, but also sometimes not. The “not” is, apparently, enough for Thor’s concern for him to spike. Does he not have enough on his plate already?

 

The Grandmaster and his shimmering hologram, eye-watering and hideous in the flat daylight, are not finished. His lips part in a look of faux-concern while a quiet whining noise escapes the speakers like a trapped animal. It sounds far too familiar for comfort.

 

“I don’t think he’s doing too good,” the Grandmaster warns. “Thanks to you! So, uh, where am I going with this? Oh, right. If you don’t bring my beloved champion back,  _ something _ might happen to your precious brother!” he finishes with a smile. 

 

_ Well, shit. _

 

Thor curses the Grandmaster under his breath and makes his decision. He’s fairly sure the Grandmaster is still talking, because the incessant annoying voice is still doing its best to pierce through his rapidly growing rage, but he blocks it out, gripping Banner’s shoulder and looking him directly in the eye.  Maybe the obedience disk had burrowed into his subconscious, too, because he may have been ready to leave Loki here a few minutes ago, but he’s not sure he ever really believed that, because it sure didn’t take much to change his mind, did it? 

 

“Listen, Bruce. I have to go back-”

 

“For Loki? Are you crazy?” Banner hasn’t forgotten his best moments with Loki.

 

“I’m not going to try and explain it to you, but hear me out, you need to leave. Find Valkyrie and tell her who you are.” Thor hopes Banner realizes what that entails. “You’re friends, she’ll take care of you, even if it means staying here longer than I wanted to. I swear to you that you will be safe with her,” Thor promises, impressed by his own assurance and unwavering trust of Valkyrie. 

 

Banner’s eyebrows contort and his concern is unmistakable. “Who? God, Thor, are you sure you’re okay?” Banner is obviously not okay.

 

Thor exhales sharply and tries to keep himself from running back to the Grandmaster’s prison as quickly as he can. “Just trust me. She’s Asgardian, she’ll help you. Er - her other name is Scrapper 142, if that helps you find her. Just… ask around, and no matter what, do not mention the Hulk to anyone but her. I’m sorry, Banner, I really am, but… I’m just sorry. You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

 

Thor gives him an apologetic parting glance, but doesn’t try to explain why he’s suddenly choosing his sometimes-evil younger brother who is probably handling himself just fine right now over his weak, lost friend with anger issues and no idea what’s currently going on. Thor isn’t really sure he can explain that to himself, either. But family is family, and Bruce is smart. Thor isn’t ready to let his hopes be dashed. Positive mental outlook. Positive, positive... 

 

“Bye!” he yells back, and sprints towards the center of the city.

 

It is not difficult to find the Grandmaster’s palace. If one could call it a palace, which Thor wouldn’t, but he knows the Grandmaster must think it is such. It worries him slightly that nobody accosted him on his way over; even though he was moving pretty quickly, and they probably couldn’t see his face all that well in the arena… well, in any case, he thinks he knows what it means. The Grandmaster doesn’t want to capture him by force, especially not alone. He knows the Hulk will be an easy target to find. No, this isn’t just about finding his  _ beautiful green champion _ , but punishing Thor for having the gall to  _ not _ want to be enslaved. And maybe punishing Loki too, just for the Hel of it. The Grandmaster seems like the type to enjoy that sort of thing.

 

Thor, somewhat awkwardly, approaches what he thinks might be the front doors to the compound.  _ Might _ be. As if the gleaming gold statues of the Grandmaster himself flanking them, as well as the frescoes of his visage decorating the brightly-colored pillars and the silhouettes frosted into the glass, don’t give it away. A guard with bright yellow hair and armed with a gun larger than the scant clothes she’s wearing starts at his appearance and, before Thor can react even to hold up his hands in surrender, shoots him with deadly accuracy in the neck. 

 

“Topaz! Topaz! He’s here!!” she yells excitedly, and Thor isn’t sure why he can still hear this and isn’t unconscious, but then he sees her beaming smile and she clicks a button on the gun.

 

Ah. So it’s back to those damned disks. 

 

Thor manages to stay awake long enough to see Topaz’s smug face above his before he is gone.

 

* * *

 

It’s not the room he first showed up in on Sakaar, that’s for sure. Compared to this, that was almost… formal. This place, wherever he is, feels much more intimate. The lighting is dimmer, the music a strange, slow tingle of electronic harp over swirling, pulsing beats. It worms its way into Thor like a parasite, tunneling past his eardrums to rest alongside his thoughts, growing ever-louder, leaving little room for him to keep his wits.

 

At least he isn’t in a chair this time. In fact, he’s not strapped down to anything at all, but laying relatively comfortably on what might be a bed, or perhaps platform is more accurate. He sits up, trying to decipher where his brother is, where the Grandmaster is, and how the Hel he’s going to get out of here.

 

Why, why did he come back? Asgard in danger, Bruce alone on a strange planet, Heimdall probably watching it all, concerned - all of this for Loki? The damned wretch is probably fine, he already survived for weeks alone on this planet. Maybe he’s even in this with the Grandmaster, and  _ wants _ to keep his brother away from saving nearly everything he’s ever cared about. That wouldn’t be all too surprising, considering the lies Loki has been living the last few years. Perhaps he wants revenge on Thor for… something. It’s not like Loki has ever needed a reason before. Thor grits his teeth, annoyed at himself for being so naive as to fall for this. He needs to leave, now. 

 

And even if this wasn’t Loki’s intent, even if he’s really in danger - well, he’s trusted Loki with his own life before. He can do it again, especially if it means fixing this mess Loki got them into in the first place. Sometimes, Loki is better off alone.

 

Thor snaps out of his own mind and looks around. There are no windows in this odd room, he quickly realizes, only shiny, hard benches and oddly-shaped couches scattered about and a bar ten times the size of the one Banner had in his own quarters. The entire place is large, too, larger than any bedroom ought to be, if that’s even what this is. Other than that, there’s little else to remark on. The only company Thor has is gleaming plastic and the horrid harp music still doing its best to infect his every thought. He can’t even make out a door hidden in the polished, multicolored walls. 

 

Imprisoned, again.

 

He lays back, hopelessness and self-anger and anxiety overcoming him, and is suddenly very aware of the coolness of the silken bed-linen on his bare back.  _ Oh, no _ . His breeches are still on, but unlaced, and otherwise, he is naked. Horror fills the small part of him that was still holding out on giving up. What might’ve been done to him in the unconscious haze of the last few… hours? Days? Bile rises in his stomach.  _ Stupid, stupid, mistake after mistake, and just when you finally had a chance to fix things… _

 

Unable to keep laying in such a helpless position, Thor sits back up, scooting to the edge of the soft platform to feel the comfort of his feet on the floor. The impulse is shameful, he knows, but he thinks… it might just not be the worst idea to start making good use of that bar. It’s here. And it sure seems to be how the rest of the Asgardians in Sakaar cope.

 

His bare footsteps make no sound on the plastic floor; he feels much better now that he is up and moving and doing  _ something _ , even if that something is dulling his senses so that he might be even more unable to think clearly. The earworm has wriggled its way past all of his better intentions to settle deep within him, instilling a single-minded focus on seeking relief from the stress of the past days. The bar is haphazardly organized, but the selection seems boundless. All he wants is a good, plain mead. Of course, all they have is sickening, artificially-colored sweet disgusting  _ who-knows-where-this-came-from _ shit. 

 

His hands ball into fists and he relents that his decision-making cannot possibly be more impaired than it already is, so he grabs an aquamarine-hued bottle filled with something clear, wishing for something that tastes of nothing more than alcohol. The stopper is shaped like something obscene, but then again, what here isn’t? He pulls it out, trying to not be disgusted with himself, but before the bottle touches his lips, a sharp knock pierces the room.

 

Thor has half a mind to ignore it and chug. 

 

To his right, a previously-seamless wall fractures neatly and the Grandmaster himself steps through the door, clad in the ever-present gold and turquoise, a diverse selection of guards and servants funneling through the opening behind him. He gives Thor an apologetic look and motions for one of the minions to approach him.

 

“Make him a drink, Maurice, what’s wrong with you! Can’t have our honored guest serving himself.” The Grandmaster skirts over to Thor and takes his bare forearm with a blue-fingernailed hand. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up, you Lord of Thunder, you. Not so immune to a good shock, eh? You’ve been missing out, you know, while you’ve been out. But that’s all about to change! I’m excited, they’re excited-” he motions to the crowd of people still flooding through the door, “-and I betcha your brother is excited, too! Aren’t you glad you came back?”

 

This is punctuated by Maurice handing Thor a large, many-faceted glass of some stunning pink liquid, garnished with a few veiny leaves and a plump, spherical fruit of some sort he had never seen. His bad feeling is somehow… waning. Now, at least, he has some idea of what is about to happen to him. Not that whatever it is will be good, of course, but certainly it’s better than the unknown. 

 

“Drink it, why don’t you? And while you’re at it, Maurice would ya get me one too?” the Grandmaster requests, and leads Thor back over to where he woke up, pushing him down onto the platform with surprising strength. Thor knows how his face must look right now, a statue of deeply-concerned features sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the relaxed, happy faces of the Grandmaster’s slaves and friends, but he doesn’t care, he  _ is _ concerned, and maybe he can just… ask the Grandmaster what the Hel was going on? Where Loki is? If he can still win back his freedom as he was once promised?

 

The Grandmaster raises his eyebrows expectantly and Thor obliges that a sip can’t hurt. He raises the glass, and the smell alone nearly knocks him out. On Asgard, Thor could down ten barrels of mead before falling asleep, but here on Sakaar… this might just do him in. The taste seems to surpass his tongue entirely and wheedles into his brain much like the music had; the sweetness is unbearable, the brace of mint just enough to keep him from spitting it out, and the coldness above all numbing his senses beyond immediate vengeance. All in all, it isn’t bad.

 

The Grandmaster shifts his grip on Thor from domineering to affectionate and smiles at him. “Good, isn’t it?” Maurice approaches his master reverently once more and hands him his own beverage, bowing slightly. “Now, where were we? Oh, right. Your brother, Loki, he’s been… well, he’s been great. Very responsive to how things are around here. I’m thinking that you can be, too.” Thor’s expression hasn’t changed, though he goes in for another sip; the drink is worryingly addictive. “Now, where is he? Why isn’t he here?” The Grandmaster snaps his fingers back to a guard still flanking the door. “Amethyst, go get him! He’s supposed to be here!” She leaves, and the Grandmaster’s hand snakes behind Thor’s arm to his still-bare lower back. “Now, this, this Scrapper-142, she called you a fighter. And fight you did! But listen, Thor, Thor, you can’t keep fighting my champion. One of you could get hurt! No, no I see you with much more potential. I mean, look at you, what’s not to see.”

 

He pauses, perhaps waiting for Thor’s response to this compliment of sorts. Thor takes another sip, much larger this time, menthol and sugar burning his tongue. “Uh, the Grandmaster… I-I don’t know about that. I think I’m really more of a fighter.”

 

“Nonsense. I’ve heard all about you from my little Lolo-”  _ oh, Norns, please let him be lying,  _ “and I’ve got a good feeling about you. No, I really do. I know these things.” He taps his temple as if to prove his assertion true.

 

“T-the Grandmaster-” Thor stutters. The drink seems to be affecting him already, but he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

 

“Again with the ‘the’! It’s just Grandmaster. Why do I have to explain that so much? Is that so hard to understand?” He looks around, checking the audience for agreement. “Anyways. Once he gets back here, we can start. Drink up, it’ll be fun.  _ Nothing _ to worry about.”

 

Thor isn’t completely gone yet, though the drink almost is. He can see the bottom now; even through the near-opaque pink liquid, he can see what seem to be sugar cubes resting suspiciously. He knocks it back in a single gulp and sucks on them. They taste splendid.

 

The Grandmaster beams. “Good. Maurice, another? The other kind, maybe?”

 

Thor exhales heavily; he feels much clearer than he did before, albeit different somehow. The music doesn’t sound bad at all anymore. “So, um…” he starts, but has trouble continuing; he feels strange, like he hasn’t in a long time. He swallows and pulls himself together. “I suppose you’re going to punish me? I didn’t bring Ba-the Hulk back.”

 

“What? You thought I was going to hurt you? Oh, Thor, Thor.” Thor didn’t like how he kept saying his name twice. “You’re a silly one. And so easily coerced! One might think you wanted this. Well, who could blame you. I mean, do I look angry?” He raises a hand to Thor’s chin and tips it in his direction. No, he does not look angry. “It’s fine! In the meantime, Sakaar is positively covered with cameras! I’ll find my beauty before you even get the slightest taste of what you’ve been missing. And then we can all enjoy this together! It’ll be great.”

 

Maurice brings a different drink this time; his blue-white hands cradle a pyramidal glass of something milky deep green and smoking slightly. Thor takes it gladly. It smells of pine and something bitter he can’t place. 

 

The door opens, and Amethyst wheels out Loki strapped to what appears to be the same chair Thor had arrived on. He is very ostentatiously leashed to it; gleaming silver chains wrap their way up his arms and down his legs. He is neither blindfolded nor muzzled, but that would be unnecessary given the veins of blue sticking out on his pale skin. Thor surmises it must be the obedience disks yet again, albeit in a lower voltage allowing him to stay conscious. Too conscious. The yellow robe draped over his shoulders is far too big; it hangs loosely open, allowing Thor to see the effects of the mild paralysis trailing down his abdomen.

 

Even addled as he is, the sight disgusts Thor. They are  _ princes _ , not playthings. This is madness; disgusting, perverted, demeaning madness. If only Odin could see them now.

 

“Ah, there he is! How’re you doing, Loki? Still awake? You’re a strong one, I knew it when I first laid eyes on you,” the Grandmaster says, letting go of Thor’s arm to pounce over to Loki, stroking back his black hair with a thumb. Despite the lack of obvious obscenity, Thor can hardly bear to watch it. “Bet you’re glad to be back with your brother here! I, for one, can’t wait to see the two of you together.”

 

Thor dearly, dearly hopes that doesn’t mean anything like what he thinks it means. Even the Grandmaster wouldn’t do  _ that. _

 

His selfish caressing of Loki doesn’t last long, though, and the Grandmaster turns back to Thor. “Well, I suppose we can begin!”

 

It might be imagined, Thor knows, but he thinks he sees the vaguest hint of trepidation hidden in Loki’s grin.

 


	2. revel

Grandmaster’s relaxed attitude is contagious, though, and Thor is positive he has invented Loki’s concern. The atmosphere is light, and Loki must be enjoying it, too. Another servant hands Grandmaster a remote and he turns the music up. The thumping beats hit Thor in all the right places, and he feels an unshakable compulsion to keep drinking. Offhandedly, he wishes that Loki could have some of it too; is he allowed to ask Maurice favors? It would be a shame not to share… and even the small, shrinking, sober part of Thor warning him that Grandmaster is trouble agrees that alcohol might numb the pain that the both of them were surely about to be subjected to.  _ If _ pain is what Grandmaster has in mind… and it doesn’t seem like it… perhaps Thor should ask. He ignores Grandmaster for a few seconds, trying to catch Loki’s eye, but Loki cannot look away from the tall, vibrant god. His eyes dig into the strange king of Sakaar with unwavering intensity; he does not blink, nor show anything else the slightest bit of attention. 

 

Grandmaster obviously appreciates Loki’s striking gaze on him as he shrugs off the omnipresent golden robe, letting it fall to the floor carelessly. A servant picks it up and folds it neatly on one of the benches. Underneath is more gold and turquoise, the garments loose and pajama-like. He turns back to Thor, but not before giving an ostentatious wink to Loki.

 

“Where to start! There’s just… mm, just so much of you that I’d like to taste,” he says, pointing an appraising finger at his bare chest. “You know, Thor, I’m really not one to make mistakes. But I think I may have misjudged you! I think you should’ve been here all along.” His voice hasn’t changed with the onset of this supposed flirtation; it sounds even more odd in the overly casual intonation Thor is so used to hearing now. He wants to cringe at it, but relaxes more deeply, leaning back on his hands and flexing his outsized stomach muscles ostentatiously. It’s been too long since he’s gotten to show off. “Ah. You know what I like! See, Topaz, I told you he had potential.”

 

Thor hadn’t yet noticed Topaz, but she must’ve been here amongst the gathered Sakaarian congregation for the entire duration of this apparent seduction. He doesn’t care, much. Instead, he leans over to pick his half-empty drink up off the floor,  _ (when did you set it down?) _ inhaling the sharp scent before taking another long draught. He doesn’t swallow right away, but lets it linger on his tongue, swirling it around his mouth, absorbing the mysterious flavor. Grandmaster strides back to him, stopping a few inches short of where Thor now looks up. He reaches a hand down to stroke Thor’s brow, like he’d done Loki a few moments before.

 

“I think we’re going to like this, no? Loki? What say you?” Grandmaster asks.

 

Loki’s eyes still haven’t wavered from their precise gaze, only now Thor can’t tell whether they’re on him or Grandmaster with them so close. He smirks, that uniquely Loki smirk. “I think he’ll like it.”

 

Thor swallows, and even through the buzz of alcohol his unease returns; this is… not Loki, this obedient plaything acquiescing with whatever his master says. He’s reminded that, despite the delicious substances now trailing their way through his body, and the delightful atmosphere assaulting his ears and eyes, this is not fun. He is here to escape, not to comply.

 

But, perhaps, one begets the other. The risk of Loki being hurt or punished for Thor’s decisions here is more than enough to keep him in line. He smiles at the thought of doing what is best for both of the Odinsons, despite the circumstances.

 

Grandmaster sees this and licks his lips. “Good, so we’re all in agreement! I, ah, I think we’ll start you out slow. Takes a few minutes for that to kick in,” he says, gesturing to the drink Thor has nearly finished. 

 

Thor has not been instructed to do so, but he downs the rest of it anyway, mouth tingling as he hands the glass to the patiently-waiting Maurice. The bored-looking alien seems anything but concerned about the questionable antics of his boss, and the ethical dilemma that is certainly about to begin in this room.

 

Grandmaster licks a thumb and uses it to wipe the green drink residue off of Thor’s lip. Thor has half a mind to take it into his mouth. He realizes that at no point did Grandmaster actually  _ say _ that this punishment was to be of a sexual nature.

 

“Why don’t you, ah, undress me?” Grandmaster says, looking down expectantly.

 

Well, Thor cannot truly say that he is surprised.

 

“Yes, Grandmaster.” The words roll off his tongue easily, without his permission, and he begins to feel flushed, warmth building deep in his gut. He unties the belt holding Grandmaster’s loose pants up, praying that Loki has found the strength in his half-paralyzed mind to look away. With a sly wriggle of his hips, Grandmaster’s lower half is bared, and Thor is rather repulsed to see that he is not even hard. It takes all of his focus not to look at Grandmaster’s cock as he stands to remove the translucent, shimmering excuse for a shirt.

 

All around, he feels the eyes upon him. Even without his brother potentially watching, this would be awkward to the point of agony. 

 

Grandmaster chuckles gently but does not kiss Thor, nor do anything else to make this seem remotely romantic rather than clinical. He raises his arms and the shirt slides off, revealing a rather impressive forest of silvery chest hair spanning a muscled abdomen. He reaches a hand out and Maurice hands him a small shot glass full of clear liquid, which he knocks back easily, taking himself in hand. He does not even  _ stroke _ himself but merely holds his cock out, and Thor is certainly beet-red by now. 

 

He cannot look away or remove himself. He sits, exhaling heavily before leaning his head towards Grandmaster’s narrow hips to absorb the sweet-sweaty smell of him. His eyes droop closed as his mouth opens, hoping the smell might condense onto his tongue. The skin is so warm under his cheek.

 

The rush of sensations highlights the absence of one that was once conspicuous. The music is gone and the room is silent. This is a show, and he is the star.

 

“There’s no need to rush,” Grandmaster teases, but his hand is on Thor’s neck, fingernails tracing his veins. “We’ve got all the time in the world, you and I.”  _ Hela. Asgard. Banner.  _ Reality is not so easy to stomach as is Grandmaster’s cock. “Take your time, thunderer.” Is he joking? Does he need Thor to begin worshipping him so soon?

 

It doesn’t matter, Thor decides, because he can resist no longer. His head tilts lazily to the side and Grandmaster is in his mouth, which is now almost grossly full of warm, slick spit, and Thor can feel the length hardening on his tongue, stretching back towards his throat. He bathes it in slow, sensual caresses, rolling it in his mouth, absorbing the essence of this god. His own cock begins to twitch, too, from its place in his too-tight pants, constrained and neglected. Hopefully, he will not have it be ignored forever.

 

“Thaaat’s it,” Grandmaster purrs, stroking Thor’s hair back. “Wow, I mean… just wow. You’re very gentle, especially for a Lord of Thunder. It’s uh… well, don’t get me wrong, it’s great. Different, though.”

 

_ Someone _ likes to talk. Why can’t he just appreciate what Thor is giving him? Even drunk and out of his mind, he is still a little hurt that his talents are overshadowed by the prowess of another. And not only another, but…

 

The disgusting thought pulls him out of his reverie and Thor forces himself to halt the swirling of his tongue and the suction from deep in his throat. Grandmaster uses the opportunity to turn to his side, and Thor glances up, suddenly afraid he has been disappointing, unworthy.

 

“I’ll be honest with you, Lord of Thunder, I expected to be more like your brother. That Loki, now he really knows what I like. He has had plenty of time to figure it out, haven’t you, Loki?”

 

Now, Thor cannot stop the movement of his eyes over to his brother, who still sits transfixed, chained to the throne of sorts. He has a front-row view to all of this, and he seems to be using it to maximum extent. It seems that his gaze has shifted to Thor, now, or at least to Grandmaster’s cock instead of his face. He looks… wanting. Of course, he may have no choice in the matter. Thor should try to remember that.

 

“What can I say? I live to please.” It is Loki’s voice, but these are not Loki’s words. Unless he is lying. It’s impossible to tell. 

 

Thor can’t look at his brother anymore, and resumes his impassioned sucking, trying harder this time, adding both of his hands to snake up Grandmaster’s legs and cock, using one to push even more of the skin down his throat. This time, it appears he has done well; Grandmaster almost seems to be enjoying it. 

 

Until he pulls out, eons before Thor thinks he might’ve finished. This time, Thor knows he has failed. He looks at the floor, overwhelmed, and his hand involuntarily moves to his brow, shielding his eyes from the audience and Loki’s and from anything Grandmaster might do to him.

 

This motion is futile, however, because Grandmaster has casually walked over to Loki, evidently, and Thor cannot help but to hear the wet sounds of sucking, Grandmaster’s impassioned moans, and a low humming that is unmistakably his brother. He… he is not sure how he feels about it. The drink has unmistakably kicked in, as Grandmaster had said, and all of his feelings have warped in opposite directions. He is sickened… sickened, but accepting. Sickened, but wanting. This binary is invented. One of these poles is not  _ really _ him. He does not wish to know which one. He just wants Grandmaster back on his tongue.

 

Grandmaster is busy, though, but Thor does not have to look at it, and so he can pretend it isn’t true. In fact, isn’t he positive that Loki is just as disgusted by this as he is? This does not make him feel much better about it, not when he is still this horny; thinking of the reality of the situation has done nothing to calm his insatiable need.

 

Obviously,  _ someone  _ here is not bothered: Grandmaster is clearly taking great pleasure in tormenting them in this way. He sighs dramatically, and shudders loud enough for Thor to hear before the noises stop and Thor sees his bare feet enter the small frame his hand has formed around his vision. Grandmaster takes it, not aggressively, and kisses it. Thor looks anywhere but at Loki.

 

“What, you didn’t even look? Hmph. We’re going to have to change that, we really are. Topaz, can you…?”

 

Topaz gives Thor a knowing look before pressing a button on a chrome-plated remote. Loki’s chair zooms towards them, too close for Thor to ignore. His own erection has not waned, even given the uncomfortable circumstance of Grandmaster’s affection for having every Odinson he can get his hands on. Thor allows himself a short glance up to his brother. Is he…  _ okay?  _ The focused, yet disoriented look in his eyes seems to be abating, leaving a vague horror in its place. His mouth is reddened from the friction.

 

“Turn around, will you?” Grandmaster asks Thor, but leaves him no room for dissent. “And Maurice? Another, I think?”

 

The tinkling of glass pokes holes in Thor’s ballooning woe and he is actually glad for the drink being expertly mixed for him. The less he can think about this, the better. He reaches for it without even looking and drinks deeply without opening his eyes. This one tastes of blackberries and acid.

 

There is no hesitation: the room seems to go cloudy and the vapor fills his lungs. Grandmaster ushers him onto the platform-bed and he thankfully complies, turning onto all fours. In this position, he cannot see his brother’s horrified gaze. He hopes the drink makes it so he cannot even compose his brother’s face in his mind’s eye. 

 

He can still feel the prod of a cock behind him, though. The alcohol (and whatever else is in these) has increased his desire, but with it, his anxiety. He hasn’t… he doesn’t know whether he can take what Grandmaster wishes to give him. Doubt floods his entirety. This is not a position he has been in… ever, he vaguely remembers, and it is not so easy as the delirious slip inside a maiden virgin. But then he thinks about how  _ good _ it will feel to be owned by this elder being powerful beyond Thor’s imagination, and his muscles all relax in unison. 

 

Grandmaster positions his newest servant so that Loki cannot miss their coupling and snaps his fingers again. The lights dim, besides a single orange-hued spotlight casting its warmth onto Thor’s broad back. The music returns, yet this time it is different; hypnotic, polyrhythmic bass tones soothe any last doubts from Thor’s mind. Asgard will be  _ fine.  _ Hela… she was only a dream. In fact, all of this is a dream. A fantastical, magical reflection of Thor’s deepest suppressed desires. There is no danger, only pleasure.

 

He bows his head low and feels the curve of his spine as the only thing holding his weak, temporary body together. Grandmaster runs his fingers down from his exposed neck, down his ass to push one inside easily and Thor does not even grunt from the shock of it. Somehow, he is already slippery and ready for much more. The sensation crystallizes the fantasy. If this is reality, it is better than any dream Thor’s feeble mind could come up with. 

 

But he can still hear the faintest whimper.

 

The motion of curling fingers inside Thor halts, though Grandmaster does not remove them.  _ Wait… _ when did he add more?

 

“Hey - Loki. Loki, what’s wrong? You doing okay, bud?”

 

“I - I’m fine. Um… thirsty.” The idolatrous tone Thor heard earlier is gone. It’s a shame, too - why isn’t Loki eager to worship at Grandmaster’s feet anymore? Why must he be such a spoilsport?

 

“Well, that won’t do!” Grandmaster asserts. “You’re really supposed to be having fun. I know I am! Thor?”

 

“Of course, Grandmaster,” he replies, and now he is very angry with Loki. He’s to be taking Grandmaster’s cock now, not waiting patiently with his ass in the air while his brother grovels. Loki has had his turn, isn’t it Thor’s now? The wretch is probably just jealous.

 

And yet, Thor does not want to upset Grandmaster even more, so he remains silent, patient for Loki’s imprudence to pass. How churlish it would be of them to be punished for lack of enthusiasm when they are such honored guests. 

 

“Now, where were we?” Grandmaster pinches Thor’s ass with his free hand, eliciting a beguiled jump from Thor. “I, uh, I think you’re gonna like this.”

 

“I welcome everything you wish to give me,” Thor admits, and Grandmaster chuckles, pulling his fingers out to spank breathlessly close to where his testicles hang. It will  _ definitely  _ leave a mark.

 

“Hmph. Well, in that case…” He reaches over Thor’s back to grab his imposing shoulder, pulling him up to sit on his knees. Sometime during all of this, he has conjured a sparkling, crystal… cage, of sorts? “Here-” he hands it to Thor. “You know how to put this on, right? I think it’ll, ah, spice things up a bit.”

 

Thor blinks many times in succession. He can barely see his own cock through the haze, but the throbbing nerves call his hands to it anyway. He knows how beautiful it must look like this, adorned with this valuable gift. He is nothing if not obedient. Grandmaster has been kind enough to make it sufficiently large as to hold his erection. 

 

“Good, I knew you’d like it,” Grandmaster says. “Loki, can you, uh - can you lock it? Thanks in advance, dear.”

 

Loki is evidently composed enough now (or sedated, to Thor, these are now the same) to comply and Thor hears the faint clinking of glass on glass as the device shuts itself. The transparent bars are seamless; Thor cannot take it off himself without smashing it, and he’s surely not going to do that. Funny, too, that Grandmaster thinks it will keep him from becoming sated. No, he cannot touch himself, but he can still be taken, and that is preferable.

 

“Well, with that, I think we can finally get this show on the road! Are ya ready, Thor? Can everybody see?” He pauses, checking for assent; the crowd’s silence belies their focus on this performance of sorts. Then, without any further warning, he pushes his entire length inside.

 

Thor’s only wish is that he could be more aware of it all, for it seems to shift his very being, and he finds that he likes this new arrangement. It seems that Grandmaster is not merely fucking him, but fucking his  _ mind _ ; the parasite inside of him has grown and all of the  _ him _ left in him has moved to the edges of his body, crushed against his skin like a crab grown too large for its shell. His senses all switch places. His eyes have moved to the sides of his head so he can better see the faces, foreign and family, staring back at him; his cognizance of smell seems to have taken up residence in the back of his throat where Grandmaster’s taste yet lingers; all of the nerve endings in his skin forced out to where they now watch from above, perceiving without feeling. His eyes have vanished. He is something new, a butterfly aching to break free of the fragile chrysalis. 

 

All of this because he decided not to let his brother take care of himself.

 

The laughing behind him could be Grandmaster, or it could be Loki. The entire room hums with pleasure, and Thor is its epicenter. 

 

Grandmaster’s pace is relentless; he has done this countless times and will do so for infinity more, and all that remains to be seen is how long it takes Thor to submit to the storm inside of him. The cage around his cock feels like it is shrinking, but then again, everything does. The walls are closing in, Grandmaster is burrowing deeper with each thrust, the audience members begin to turn into participants as each shockwave forces the very geology of the place into commotion, closer and closer until not a single inch of skin is untouched. Loki is the closest and cannot avoid catastrophic damage. Soon, there will be no room left for autonomy, as if Thor ever really had that at all. 

 

More, and more… building, and building, never reaching a precipice, never an edge, nor an end...

 

Time loses meaning and Thor absentmindedly sees a pale hand grab his own, bringing him back, locking him inside. He does not wish to be free, anymore. This metamorphosis is not consensual. A choking noise sounds behind and his ass, his stomach, his lungs all seem to fill. He ceases to be.


	3. respite

Waking has never been so easy, nor so appreciated. Waking means wiping the slate clean, compartmentalizing, the opportunity of moving on. His lack of hangover is telling and the red robe clinging to his shoulders is a comfort.

 

In fact, Thor feels completely ordinary. Better than ordinary, even. Refreshed, and alive, and… shockingly devoid of regret or shame about the previous evening. He knows the dream was real. He remembers it vividly. His hallucinations and responses the previous night were not of his imagination; he could not have come up with them. This should be disturbing. But sleep has formed an insurmountable chasm between what “was” and what “is”. There is no doubt where and when it ended, and it is over now.

 

It is only trauma if you let it be, Thor reminds himself. He is determined not to do that. It was simply an… experience. Not one he wishes to do again, but nothing to get too worked up over, either.

 

His eyes open and his return to reality means he can feel a dull ache in his ass and the sickening taste of fermenting sugar in his mouth.  _ Water _ , he craves, but doubts Grandmaster left any out for him. At least his erection is gone, though the cage which contained it isn’t. Orgasm never came last night, as if Thor would have wanted it to. It was much better that he hadn’t been allowed it. This made it much easier to recall that the experience was not truly his own. He had been hijacked, overtaken. A lapse in judgment had occured. Well…  _ many _ . It won’t happen again.

 

The sparkling clouds clear from his eyes and focus returns. Loki lays beside him, facing away; the glow of the obedience disk on his neck pulsates softly. However, his veins have lost the too-bright cobalt tinge they had, so Thor thinks it must be turned off. How grateful he is that Loki has earned a small measure of peace because of him. If Asgard is fucked anyway… well, at least he was able to save someone.

 

This nihilism is novel to Thor. He is not one to worry, but he is  _ normally _ one to care, and futility is an unknown concept, or it least it was when he still had Mjolnir and the knowledge that there were no problems in the universe that could not be solved by his father. His hands clench into fists. He should not be thinking of loss right now. But he cannot deny that the power he was subjected to by Grandmaster - for pleasure, no less - is great, far greater than his own, and perhaps even greater than Hela’s. He has fled one enemy into the bed of another. Apparently, even when he has no  _ loss _ left to lose, that punishment is still not enough.

 

But he is here, and he is sober, and he has Loki. These wicked pleasures in ignorance and carelessness are just that - wicked, and he will do no good to indulge them. If they cannot find a way out of this together… no. He will not think of that. 

 

Loki stirs, and Thor scoots away from him. Even if he knows that it wasn’t exactly Loki’s choice to watch him with Grandmaster, that he has nothing to be ashamed of, it is still an uncomfortable feeling to have one’s brother have such intimate knowledge of him. He’s glad that Loki is still asleep, though not so glad to not know the time, nor how long they were out. The room is dim, bathed in the blue glow of neon embedded in the walls. He thinks it is the same room as before, but the alcohol is all gone from the bar and shelves. Prosperity stripped barren. 

 

“Are you glad of your actions, Thor?” Loki’s voice is rough, but his sarcasm is unmissable.

 

Thor covers himself as best he can with the silken sheet they are both under; the smooth glass cage sticking out from underneath it makes it look like he has a permanent erection. Loki sits up, rubbing his forehead, but does not look. Perhaps he has seen more of Thor than he wished to for a lifetime.

 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t know what he would do to you,” Thor says, trying not to test Loki’s patience this morning (morning? night? does it matter?).

 

“I thought it was pretty fucking obvious what he had been doing to me. Until you showed up, I’d been enjoying it too.”

 

“But… he said…”

 

Loki turns to him, rolling his eyes. “It was an empty threat, Thor. You really think he needs your help to find the Hulk?”

 

Thor stares his brother right back in the eye. “He’s Banner now.”

 

The silence tells Thor all he needs to know. The despair is flooding back.

 

Loki rolls over and moves to the side of the bed. He wraps the yellow robe around his shoulders tighter. “Are you… back to normal?” he asks awkwardly, assumingly referring to the drugs Grandmaster had given him. It is obvious that he doesn’t want to ask, or be here, or be around Thor at all. Maybe, for once, he cares too much about the answer to stop himself from asking.

 

“Yes. What was in those drinks?”

 

Loki doesn’t answer his question. “Trust me, you should be grateful you had them. I don’t think you would’ve liked it much sober.”

 

Thor shivers; the room feels overly cold under such a thin blanket. “Does he give those to you?”

 

Loki laughs to himself. “He doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to paralyze me, either, until you showed up and he decided it’d be more fun to take away my free will, which he normally appreciates. But I’ve seen others use those drinks for various ends, and none of them… took to it quite like you did. Under different circumstances… well, it might’ve been kind of funny to see you like that. You were pretty strung-out.”

 

All of the blithe acceptance he had woken up with vanishes, and incensed, Thor moves to sit next to Loki, clasping his shoulder, but Loki refuses to meet his gaze. He still holds a dark smile. 

 

Thor will not let it stand. “Funny? Loki, our people are in grave danger. I’ve just been drugged and abused by a madman, all to save you, and you think this is funny?”

 

Loki’s lips curl out into a snarl; it seems that Thor has not managed to make Loki see the error of his words, but to spur on an anger of his own. “I said under different circumstances! Norns, not-”

 

“You think this is just another game, don’t you? You get to drink and fuck and tell your stupid little lies to them every day, guilt-free, while I try and save our realm from the biggest danger we’ve ever known,  _ alone. _ I know you don’t care about the consequences Hela has brought us. But I do, and I will not have you making light of all this!”

 

“I’m not making light of it!” Loki stands up. “I’m trying to… I don’t know, make you feel better? Is that so bad?  _ You _ were the one to tell him we were brothers in the first place. If you had just kept your lips shut you’d be off Sakaar by now.”

 

Thor puts his head in his hands; he can no longer look at his brother, and he  _ really _ does not want to consider that Loki is right about this being at least partially his own fault. “Fine. But I didn’t, did I, and Loki, this isn’t something I can give up and accept. We are getting out of here, and you  _ are _ helping me save our realm.”

 

“What if I don’t want to?” Loki replies.

 

_ What if Loki just wants you gone.  _ Would that be the worst thing? Thor had already considered that Loki could be a hindrance to his mission against Hela, and he’s now proven to Thor that he probably would be. Convincing him to help is more trouble than it’s worth. “Fine,” Thor says. “Then help me escape.”

 

Loki says nothing; Thor can hear the muted sound of his footsteps on the hard ground. Pacing means thinking, though, so Thor gives up his ignorance and looks towards him, searching for the plan he hopes is forming in Loki’s mind. The younger Odinson looks neither overcome with apprehension nor fear from lack of ideas; his face is a shroud. His cowardice at preferring to stay in the wretched arms of Grandmaster does not show as his eyes blankly search the seamless walls. Finally, he speaks.

 

“Do you want to know what I’d do? Give him back Banner. Tell him who he is; no doubt he’ll like the whole anger, shapeshifting thing. He’s had his fun with you, and… well, he still has me, and I’m who he really wants. I think he would let you go. We could go back to how things were before your mistake, and in time I could get you a ship. And back Banner,” he adds, though he sounds like he is not finished.

 

“And?”  _ We don’t have time.  _ Though Thor knows this idea is profoundly stupid, Loki is still coming up with  _ something _ , even if it’s far from what Thor knows he is capable of. At least he is not refusing to help anymore.

 

“Well… there’s one other thing.” Loki pauses, and somehow, even after all he’s seen and done and revealed to Thor about his relationships here, he looks slightly embarrassed; the flat panes below his cheekbones turn the smallest shade pink. If Thor wasn’t still so mad at him, it would be funny. “I… actually have been on a ship here, Thor. One that can get you out, one that’s capable of surviving the portals.”

 

Despite himself, Thor perks up.  _ Damn _ Loki for knowing how to convince him of things.

 

“It’s… well, I think you can guess what it’s for. You could ask Grandmaster for a ride,” he presses his lips together for a moment at the unfortunate pun. “I guarantee he’ll catch your ulterior motive, but his arrogance is boundless. You could… I don’t know, push him out, or incapacitate him in some way.”

 

“Or convince him that Hela would be a great arena opponent?”

 

The smile that crosses Loki’s face is genuine. “Even I’d enjoy watching that.”

 

Thor wishes he had a better plan, but his problem-solving abilities have all gone to shit since losing Mjolnir. It would be so much easier if he were just in the arena once more… maybe not easier to formulate an escape plan, but easier to pretend that his actions would  _ mean _ something. Getting high and fucked by Grandmaster did not have quite the same punch as battling an opponent. 

 

“I wish it were that easy,” Thor confesses. Perhaps he can pretend, like Loki, to develop feelings for this strange god. Grandmaster sure seems to like both of them back - would their combined love be enough to convince him to save their realm? This is a pipe dream, Thor knows. If he is really so powerful, Grandmaster could have saved, or taken over, half the realms in the universe by now, considering his age. The fact that he merely rules this dump of a planet is revealing.

 

“Thor, I don’t know what you’re planning,” Loki warns, “but you need to be careful around him.” His voice is suddenly quieter, and rushed, as if he’s suddenly remembered that they are still captives. “He doesn’t give up things he likes so easily. Keeping his champion away from him is about the worst thing you can do. His obsessions are fleeting, though. He will grow bored.”

 

“We don’t have time to wait for him to get bored!” Thor’s fear has returned, and with it, his rage. This discussion is not moving fast enough; they need to act  _ now, today.  _ These jokes and wishful thoughts provided only ephemeral relief, and every moment they spend making themselves feel better is a moment Hela spends killing and slaving their people.

 

Loki stops and stares at him. “I saw her power just as well as you did. Have you considered that it might already be over?” He does nothing to hide his callousness. A cruelty lives within his words.

 

Thor squeezes his eyes shut. “No.”

 

“Then I have nothing else to add.”

 

“Surprisingly,” Thor retorts. He opens his eyes and stares into his lap; the robe does little to hide the gleam of glass from the cage. He should have known this from the start: Loki doesn’t care if Asgard is destroyed. Hel, he probably wants it to be. The fleeting remnants of love he had left there are dead and gone. The destruction of everything else is simply posterity. 

 

Thor looks back up. His brother is now sitting on the floor in a corner, the farthest away from him he can manage. Loki stares into the ground, pouting. It is  _ pathetic. _

 

“Loki, you know she won’t stop at just Asgard.” Even embarrassed by Loki’s carelessness, Thor cannot help reminding him of the stakes. 

 

Loki doesn’t answer, but Thor thinks he may have seen the smallest of eye rolls from across the room. How cowardly of him to avoid even being perceived.

 

“You’re not safe here!” Thor’s voice rises. “You aren’t  _ excluded _ from her danger just because you don’t care what she does to the rest of us! She will kill you just as certain. Her vendetta will not end at the edges of the nine realms.”

 

The room grows colder and Loki’s expression sours even more. As much as Thor hates Loki’s words sometimes, this silent treatment is worse. He moves to the edge of the bed, spurred beyond his inaction, wishing to be up and moving again, to let the blood rush through his veins and remind him that he is alive. His jaw sets when he sees the worried flush of Loki’s cheeks that can no longer be mistaken for innocent embarrassment. He knows that he should show kindness… Loki is probably hurting, too… he knows that Loki defies his expectations at every turn, and that being angry at him won’t help… but it is too late now for civility. Their people are dying. All the realms might die. And Loki only sits here, tongue stuck to his teeth, wishing for it to come to him quickly enough so that he won’t have to suffer too much.

 

Thor wishes he could make Loki suffer now and get it over with.

 

He almost does, too. He almost gets up, thunders towards him. He can almost feel the heat of Loki’s pulse hammering under his hand.

 

But he doesn’t, because he hears… clapping. 


	4. recompense

"Wow! That was, uh… quite the performance! I must say, you two, I’m really impressed. You must’ve been practicing that for years.” Grandmaster’s voice is far from angry.

 

Thor’s brow furrows and an agitated sigh escapes his gritted teeth. He stands and stares up at the white plastic ceiling.

 

“What, you didn’t think I’d hear all that? I mean, what do you take me for? Hah. Don’t answer that.”

 

His voice is far too loud; the speaker is turned to an ear-splitting volume. Loki digs his head into his hands, trying to drone it out, but Thor can only stand tall. He can’t blame Grandmaster for any of this. This was their mistake, and theirs alone. Well… he can blame Loki. Loki should’ve known that nothing here is private.

 

Grandmaster continues. “Yeah, I mean, this is probably pretty obvious, but I saw all of that. And. God, you two really gave me some ideas. You see, I thought brothers were supposed to _love_ each other! It seems you’ve forgotten that, and that’s really a shame, it really is. I think it’s best for all of us if I convince you otherwise. I bet there’s still some love in there, deep down. I mean, why would you come back otherwise, Thor?”

 

Thor looks over to Loki, whose face is still obscured. All of his fears from earlier… all that Grandmaster had done already and suggested… it was all about to get much worse, wasn't it?

 

He expects to hear the voice again, but instead, the door slips open and Grandmaster himself, alone this time, enters. He looks more self-satisfied than Thor has seen him, and that’s saying a lot.

 

“Why don’t you two come with me? I think you’ve earned it. I’m gonna take you somewhere much more special. More intimate. It’ll just be the three of us, and, gosh, isn’t that what both of you always wanted? I mean, I know it didn’t seem like it the last time, but it’s what I wanted. You’ll love it, I swear,” he finishes with a grin. Does he really expect them to simply… follow him? To not resist?

 

_Probably_ , Thor thinks. The question is whether it will be worse if they don’t.

 

Finally, Loki looks up, giving Thor a knowing look. He gets to his feet gracefully, and the fake smile returns. He expects Thor to trust him in this. For once… Thor thinks that might actually be wise.

 

“We look forward to whatever you have to offer us,” Loki says, and follows Grandmaster out. Like Hel Thor won’t follow him this time.

 

* * *

 

Being complicit in Grandmaster’s latest punishment (or at least _slightly_ complicit) is much easier than Thor had expected it to be. It gives him the illusion of power he had so thirsted for, even if it’s… well, illusory. Isn’t Grandmaster giving him what he wants? The opportunity to get off his feet, to leave the windowless prison, to do _something_?

 

Ah, Norns. He really shouldn’t be developing this acceptance for his terrible fate so soon.

 

Interestingly enough, Grandmaster says little during their little stroll through his palace. Perhaps he is simply too excited for what he has in store, or he expects Thor and Loki to resume their argument, or… maybe Thor really has misjudged him. Maybe his demeanor around the servants and concubines and friends is also performative. Perhaps he has seen some of himself in these Odinsons. Perhaps they really are in for something pleasurable, or at least tolerable.

 

_Damn_ this positive attitude Thor cannot shake. No, no, this cannot be good.

 

He trails Loki, who seems more comfortable now, almost as if he’s looking forward to this, too. More likely, he is simply glad to be lying again. He can’t do that as easily around Thor, anymore, a point Thor is assuredly proud of. But to Grandmaster, he can act, and be appreciated, and maybe even be loved. It’s not really too surprising that that he’s taken well to life here.

 

The strange threesome boards an elevator, and they ascend up and up, into what must be the central tower of this place, where the view might finally rise above the cobbled-together buildings and the garbage piles that climb hundreds of feet past them. The journey upwards takes far longer than Thor would’ve expected, given the technology a place like Sakaar appears to have.

 

Finally, they depart. The elevator doors open not to a hallway, but to a small, strangely-cozy room with floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides. The only thing obscuring the view of the vast, sickly-green ocean in the distance is the silvery gleam of champions’ busts being constructed outside directly below them, at the pinnacle of this planet. The nearest sun rests low and purplish in the sky opposite them.

 

“Well, boys, we have arrived! Like it? I think it’s rather grand, myself,” Grandmaster says, sweeping his arms around to show off the place.

 

Even without any substances altering his responses to Grandmaster, Thor cannot truly contain his excitement. Not at what is coming for them, but at the feeling of openness once more. He could break the windows… would they survive the fall? … surely Thor could descend the tower safely… alone, at least. Even constrained by glass, the feeling of air around him is freeing. If only he could fly once more.

 

“It’s quite a view,” Thor says.

 

“Well, better enjoy it now,” Grandmaster says warningly. He leads them down a few stairs to the window opposite the elevator where a long white couch looks out over the planet. The room is almost bare except for this and a wall of cabinets behind them.

 

Thor’s nerves have returned. He cannot guess what Loki is thinking right now, and the urge to jump out of the window grows stronger and stronger with each passing moment. Grandmaster instructs them to face each other, a few feet apart, and sits down.

 

“Well, I think we ought to start out small,” he suggests. “Maybe, like, an apology? From both of you.”

 

Loki’s eyes are trained on Grandmaster, and Thor’s are staring yearningly out the window. But this is doable. He knows it will worsen soon.

 

_An apology… to each other, or to him?_ Thor decides to speak first. He turns to Grandmaster, hoping whatever Loki was planning still fits with this. “I’m sorry, Grandmaster. For plotting an escape. I’ve been ungrateful. You’ve done so much for us, and I’ve given you only trouble in return.”

 

Grandmaster makes a look of incredulity. “Not to me! Sparkles, do you really think you’re the first one to try and get out of here?” Thor shrugs awkwardly. “No, no. To him! You two are the ones with the issues. I’m just here to watch you work it out. Think of me as a mediator.”

 

Thor turns back, trying not to roll his eyes. He knows Loki must be doing the same thing. “Uh, Loki… I’m sorry. For, uh… not trusting you. For being a bad brother.” He truly does not know what to add to this.

 

Loki, however, is completely in his element. “Thor, it is not you who should apologize, but me. I was dishonest. I never expressed to you the depth of my love, nor that my decisions had changed, nor that I had found a life I love in the arms of another. I never meant to stop you, or hurt you. I only wanted you to understand that we might both find peace, _together._ ”

 

_Ugh_ … _he is really too good at that._ Grandmaster looks delighted at the force of Loki’s words, though, and it’s not altogether too surprising that Loki had him in such a good place before Thor came in and ruined it all.

 

“See, that’s what I want to hear. Thor he… he really loves you, I can tell. That was from the heart. It’s okay, though!” he assures. “Words aren’t your strong suit, are they? I think you can show him the _depths_ of your contrition another way. No, I know you can,” he adds. He leans back, crossing his legs, and his eyes move down Thor’s half-exposed body to where the glass cage still sticks out from under the robe.

 

Again… Thor can’t say he’s too surprised. Loki’s eyes have concealed their animosity only to Grandmaster. He hasn’t a choice, though… does he? Would jumping out of a window, a thousand feet off the ground, really be much better than simply giving his brother a hug? _No_ , he decides… no need to ruin his relationship with Loki even more.

 

He gives up and leans in. Loki even reciprocates. The banality of it is almost comical.

 

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. Give him a kiss.”

 

_Uh… what?_ This time, Thor can’t pretend like Grandmaster’s instructions are normal. He doesn’t mean to say it, he knows he shouldn’t. He turns, raising an eyebrow. His face is probably as pink as Loki’s had been the last time. “Seriously?”

 

Grandmaster puts a hand to his brow, then out doubtfully, as if Thor has asked him the absolute _stupidest_ question ever asked. “Thor. Sparkles. Lord of Thunder. Do you think I was joking?” He leans forward, and the setting sunlight from outside casts his face into half-shadow. “You two were about to break out of here a few moments ago. I have the good graces to not immediately kill you. And you are… refusing me.” He finishes with a dismissive snort.

 

The room seems to hum, and Thor is suddenly afraid once more of the power this strange god contains. “I-I’m sorry-”

 

Loki cuts him off. “He was just making a joke,” he assures good-naturedly. “Thor, brother, don’t you see, he’s not in the mood for that.” The look Loki gives him clearly shows that Loki himself isn’t in the mood for joking, either.

 

_Well… if that’s how it’s going to be…_ Thor leans in, grasps his brother by the neck, and presses their lips together.

 

As soon as he does it, he wishes he would’ve jumped out the window, instead. It’s just… wrong, not what brothers are meant to do, and he can feel Loki hating it under his lips, but his fear has grown faster than his repulsion. He tries to angle away from Grandmaster, tries to keep his lips closed as much as he can, tries to pretend this is hardly anything more than a friendly peck. Loki plays into it, grabbing his waist, breathing heavily, but it is over as quickly as it started, and he pulls away first. The brothers turn in unison.

 

Grandmaster beams, looking up at them as if they’d just fulfilled his wildest dreams. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” He stands up excitedly. “Alright, alright, now that was great, but you see, I’ve got something even better.” He prances away, leaving the Odinsons to hurriedly step away from one another. For the first time in ages, Thor sees an apology in Loki’s eyes. He hopes that his own look the same.

 

Their respite doesn’t last long, though, because Grandmaster is back moments later, only this time, he isn’t alone. It’s not a servant or bartender with him, but a… wheel? A vertical wheel, not too different from the kinds Thor has seen on Midgardian game shows. It’s five feet tall, spotted with gold glitter with black radial lines projecting out from the center. A pictograph is on each neon-hued triangle, depicting…

 

Thor blushes again. Then feels bile rising in his throat. These are all sexual acts, strange fetishes, at least half of which Thor doesn’t even recognize… and him and Loki are about to act them out, aren’t they?

 

He takes back everything he thought earlier about the depth of Grandmaster’s perversion. He was correct this morning. He could have never come up with _this._

 

A pleading glance to Loki doesn’t solve much, but it’s clear that Loki is just as horrified as he is. He wishes again that Grandmaster would drug them for this, but knows that he will do nothing of the sort; that is far too kind. Even if Grandmaster doesn’t see it this way, they _are_ being punished. The best they can do is dissociate: dissociate, pretend away their relationship, _get it over with._ If it ever _is_ over with.

 

“Well, I can see you’re both excited! Do ya like it? Had it made just for me. All of my favorite things in one place, and you two perfect specimens to try it out for me. Gosh, I know I said this already, Thor, but it’s a shame I ever put you in the arena. I’m sure glad you escaped and came back so I could see the error of my ways. You are a wise one,” he adds, pointing an affectionate finger towards Thor. “Loki, why don’t you, uh, step on up? You have been here the longest, so you get to go first.”

 

Loki does as he’s told; he breaks away from Thor’s horrified gaze to grab one of the rungs tracing the perimeter of the wheel. Thor hopes that their silent prayers combined will be enough to keep them from some of the more… exotic options. Loki gives Grandmaster another ravishing smile, and pulls down with all his might.

 

Around, around, until it slows enough for Thor to see… orange tentacles inserting themselves into a man’s every orifice… a clamp pressing down upon a pair of purpling testicles… an alien couple with at least six limbs each entangled in some sort of mutual devouring...

 

And it stops. Thor cannot contain his sigh of relief. A single paddle, smacking what is clearly a voluptuous ass. He can do this.

 

On the other hand, Grandmaster looks slightly disappointed. He doesn’t ask Loki to re-spin, though, and walks to reach inside one of the black-walled cabinets, emerging with a large wooden paddle, which he gives to Thor. The leather-wrapped handle feels comfortable in his hand, and it’s not as heavy as he would’ve expected it to be.

 

Loki knows what to do. Without so much as a cautionary look to Thor, he pulls up his robe, exposing his bare ass, and leans over the white couch.

 

“Well, uh… have fun!” Grandmaster says. He sits down next to where Loki’s torso drapes over the upholstery, and takes Loki’s chin in a hand, running a finger up and down his jaw. Thor draws his arm back, ready to strike firmly enough to be believable but not so much to where it will hurt Loki.

 

_Hela… Asgard… escape..._

 

He hears the smack before he has actually decided to move. Loki jumps slightly, but no cry of pain escapes his throat. Another one, then… and, Thor realizes, it is far too easy to keep hurting his brother. Is this not what he wanted all along? A way to punish Loki for the ills he has committed, the sin of _carelessness?_ The strikes come harder and harder until a mark forms that does not fade between blows. He begins to hear the air rushing from Loki’s lungs, the vocal cords sounding faint whimpers onto Grandmaster’s fingers trailing around his lips, the silent pleading to be done with this.

 

But Thor doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want to get to the next horror on the wheel, he doesn’t want to stop taking his anger out on a deserving _slut_ , doesn’t want to end this perpetual motion of justice. Even with Loki bared and in such a compromising position, it’s easy to forget that this is supposed to be erotic. Well, maybe it’s different for Grandmaster, but for Thor, it’s simply… anger management. He’s glad he hasn’t bothered to count the blows.

 

_Cough… cough..._ the sound grows more pained, and Loki keels forward, almost retching for a moment _._ Thor recoils slightly. The sort-of-trance he had entered has shattered with the sound of Loki struggling for air. Grandmaster looks up at him, an eyebrow raised.

 

“Is that enough, uh, Lord of Thunder? I mean, I know _you_ can keep going, but, uh, I think Lolo here might be done. What say you, Loki?” Grandmaster asks. It’s clear that he’s disappointed in the relative innocence of this first round.

 

Loki slowly inches back to a more-dignified standing position, rubbing his brow. His ass is nearly purple now. He doesn’t even bother shooting Thor a hostile glance. This is probably good. This way, he cannot see the lack of _sorry_ in Thor’s own eyes.

 

“Alright, well, Thor, I think it’s your turn. Step on up!” He jogs back around the couch, robe fluttering, to play the part of excitable game-show host once again.

 

Thor drops the paddle and immediately misses the homey feel of its leather-wrapped handle in his hand. He turns to Grandmaster, still ignoring Loki, and reaches for a rung. He wonders if he can pull it _just right_ so he can get one of the less-horrible ones… only, which ones aren’t horrible?

 

He pulls it down and looks away, out at the stars beginning to appear where daylight has abandoned. _Tick, tick, tick… tick…… tick……._

 

“Ah, now that’s, uh, that’s what I’m talking about!” says Grandmaster, and Thor allows himself a glance at what will soon be his fate. His breath catches. The wheel has stopped on what is unmistakably a tongue inserting itself into a circular hole.

 

He shudders. At least this way, he won’t have to see Loki’s face.

 

Grandmaster spanks him playfully, then moves him around to the couch, where he bends over on all fours, ass sticking into the air obscenely. Just as he did with Loki, Grandmaster sits in front of him. His face is uncomfortably close; Thor can smell his breath. It’s not sweet, and stings the inside of his nose.

 

Without so much as a warning or caressing finger on his legs, he feels the press of Loki’s tongue upon him, warm and soft, twirling around the muscular ridges, sliding up and down, even dipping the smallest amount inside. Thor’s breath catches when Loki does that. Loki obviously knows what he’s doing, and despite himself, Thor can feel an erection growing within the crystal cage. With his eyes fluttering closed, only able to see Grandmaster, it is too easy to forget who is licking his ass.

 

He feels lips forming a circle around it and a gentle sucking. Loki does not do anything halfway, apparently.

 

“That’s it… good…” Grandmaster mutters into his ear. Thor allows himself to whine a bit at it… if Grandmaster likes it, he needs to do it, right? Even if it makes Loki uncomfortable? Thor shouldn’t ignore his own pleasure just because of who’s supplying it…

 

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, Thor can feel the _whoosh_ of air that means Grandmaster has pulled away. _No…_ and just when he was starting to be okay with this, too.

 

Loki stops. Grandmaster has sprung back up to the wheel. “That was much better, wasn’t it? I think we’re ready for even more. Fingers crossed for something _good_ this time!”

 

Loki gets up, wiping his mouth. Thor can tell that for once, he’s even having a hard time not looking angry. He spins; this time it seems to be… the aliens devouring each other. Thor is actually relieved. If Loki had pulled only a bit harder, they would be cutting each other open soon.

 

Trying not to imagine that particular possibility in too much graphic detail, Thor lays down, holding his mouth shut until the moment comes when he can no longer pretend. Loki’s bad mood is clearly getting harder and harder for him to obscure, but… Thor shudders, from disgust or titillation he does not know: Loki’s cock is hard.

 

“Alright, Loki, why don’t you take that off him? Unless you want to try and stick the whole thing, cage and all, down your throat. I’m impartial.” Grandmaster laughs.

 

Thor had almost forgotten about it, though the top of it where it has attached itself to him is starting to feel rather tight. Loki sighs, snapping his fingers, and it vanishes. At least Thor won’t have to go through the precarious measure of getting it off himself.

 

Loki nearly stomps over to him and turns around, climbing atop his brother, and now all of the possible lust Thor had been feeling before sours; his ignorance is broken and bile rises in his stomach. He sorely hopes he won’t gag too badly on Loki’s cock.

 

Even with his bad attitude, however, Loki starts sucking him with gusto. His attempt at dissociation is working again now that his mouth is busy, and Thor probably needs to be reciprocating very soon. The angle is awkward; he will have to tip his head back all the way to reach Loki’s cock. Loki wiggles his hips, showing off for Grandmaster no doubt, but it has the added bonus of making Thor able to reach him without needing to use his hands.

 

_This is okay._ He takes Loki’s cock in his mouth, trying not to be too enthusiastic or too unmoving, trying to stay focused as Loki sucks his own much more enthusiastically. With his eyes closed, he can ignore; the taste is not so different from the taste of any other skin, but then he inhales raggedly through his nose and _no, no Thor what are you thinking this is not okay, this is your brother_ and at the same time, Loki twitches down so his entire cock slides down Thor’s throat. Thor cannot help himself: he gags, choking on it, throat and stomach all convulsing as he remembers how much he does not want to be doing this.

 

And Loki does not relent, it’s almost as if he _does_ want this, what is wrong with him? He pushes down even farther, and Thor can’t breathe, and the illusion is all shattered to pieces. He can no longer dissociate, not when the name _Loki_ and the word _brother_ twirl into each other fluidly in his head, not when he’s already close to coming, not when he imagines himself as not Loki’s brother, but his lover. Somehow, the shame settles his stomach, and though _Norns,_ he doesn’t want to, he relaxes and his mouth and throat suddenly all work the way they should again. His tongue moves around; he only wants Loki to be okay.

 

_“If only Odin could see them now…”_ Hel, if he could see them _now_. Some brothers they are.

 

Again, as quickly as the last time had been over, Grandmaster stops them. Thor can’t decide whether he’s grateful for the impatience or not. Before Grandmaster has to ask, he gets up to spin the wheel, thanking the Norns for their relative good fortune so far and begging for it to continue.

 

_Tick tick tick tick… tick…. tick….. tick….._

 

Thor makes a face. “What is that?” It’s some sort of cylindrical… thing, but Thor can’t imagine what it could possibly be used for.

 

Grandmaster raises an eyebrow. “You can’t tell? Huh… I’ll have to ask my _artist_ -” he overemphasizes the middle vowel - “to fix it up a bit. Loki, you wanna tell him?”

 

Thor wheels around to him. He’s beet-red. “Er…”

 

Grandmaster rolls his eyes. “It’s not that weird! Don’t tell me I’m the only one into this. Can’t knock it till ya try it, right?” He springs up to open the black cabinet again, searching for something.

 

“Do you know-” Thor mouths to his brother.

 

Loki only makes a face in return and shrugs slightly.

 

“Here we are!” Grandmaster exclaims, bounding back towards them excitedly. In his hand is a long, magenta… tube… thing? which is bulbous at each end and seems to almost throb by itself with an unseen energy. Vine-like tendrils wrap around it which seem to glow slightly from the inside. Its diameter is just the right size to… ah. Thor understands now.

 

“Lay down, both of you. On your backs. I want you to look each other in the eye.” He hands each of them a leather-cased pillow, and they’ve no choice but to comply. Loki lays down, his bare back pressing against the hard floor with his legs bent up towards his chest and the pillow behind his upper back. His familiarity in this extremely revealing position is worrying, but at least Thor has someone to copy.

 

The slick sounds of the device being lubricated tickle Thor’s ears and he scowls. Just a moment ago, he had been okay, or at least tolerant of Grandmaster’s torments, but now that he had to look Loki in the eye? He had to give it to Grandmaster. The god certainly knows how to push someone way, way past their limits.

 

Grandmaster kneels between them. “Alright, now this might be a little awkward of a position, but I really wanted you two to make eye contact. Now, I could, uh, I could lie here about how it’s so _deep_ and _powerful_ to see two estranged brothers learn to love each other again, but I’m gonna be honest with you. I just think it’s hot.”

 

Thor tries not to roll his eyes, and instead looks up to see Grandmaster inserting one end of the thing into Loki’s still-tight ass. It seems to shrink of its own accord for a moment to more easily slip inside, but the look on Loki’s face says it expands once more after it’s in. He doesn’t look too mad about it.

 

Now it’s Thor’s turn, and the toy pokes against his ass. It’s almost absurdly slippery, and he doesn’t understand how Grandmaster can even have a grip on it. Just as with Loki, it doesn’t need even a push from Grandmaster, because it seeps into him as if it’s alive, flowing up into his ass like a living liquid. He clenches instinctively, and sees the concentrated expression on Loki’s face change, as if he’s feeling the same thing. Thor can’t decide whether the feeling is pleasurable or not… it is certainly invasive… but as it expands and pokes back through him, seeking out all his most sensitive spots and caressing them, he can’t help but enjoy this strange organism. He moans softly, and hears Loki echoing the same.

 

The alive-device-organism-thing continues its writhing inside of him, responding to the gentle rocking of his hips back and forth over it and he looks down, wondering if Grandmaster is moving it for them. But… no, he stands above them, now, cock in hand, happily stroking away… Thor’s eyes traverse over the thing; its center is still, but each end moves simultaneously… it must be doing the same motions in Loki’s hole. Thor bites his tongue; this is very strange to be feeling the same pleasures as his brother. Aren’t they over that? He supposes… not…

 

Loki stares at him narrow-eyed but Thor decides to close his eyes, giving into the pleasure. He hasn’t been told he can’t, so he takes himself in hand, stroking in time with the toy’s motion inside him… it’s too good, he shouldn’t be doing this… it’s wrong, he shouldn’t come in front of his brother like this, or under such coercion… but he can’t deny the warmth building in his balls. It feels like anger, justified anger that he can only relieve by just letting his body do what it wants; if he cannot hurt Grandmaster (and Loki, for Hel’s sake) for making him feel this way, he will just have to give into what his body desires instead.

 

Just as he allows himself the leeway to, a cry escapes his throat and the come leaks from his cock as the toy tickles the very deepest part of his insides. After his convulsions stop, it shrinks again and seems to trickle out of him like water. He feels profoundly empty.

 

“Alright, Lolo, you think you have a few more spins left in ya? I think you do,” Grandmaster says. Loki gets up, his body tense, and pulls it once more. This is beginning to get tedious.

 

Thor doesn’t even bother looking. He closes his eyes, nearly fucked-out already, though he has hated every moment of this perverted game. Hasn’t he? Even without the influence of Grandmaster’s drugs, he starts to forget his own emotions.

 

The ticking stops, and Grandmaster claps his hands. “Oh! Oh, this is a good one. Thor, now I’ll be honest with you, I’d been hoping for this one all along. I mean, technically, the rules of the game mean Loki should be the, uh, receiver, but I really think it’d be better if you are. What do you think, Loki?”

 

“Yes, I agree,” he replies stoically.

 

Thor turns around. Grandmaster is stripping off what remains of his clothes, rubbing his cock again in preparation for something. “Why don’t you lay down, Lolo?”

 

Loki does as he’s told and lays on the floor by the window; his pale body reflects back from it and, once more, Thor won’t be able to look away from him.

 

“Alright, Thor, now, uh, hop on! You know how this works, right?” It’s obvious what he is referring to. Thor should have known that he’d never get out of this without full consummation.

 

He feels a sinking in his stomach and wants to wring Grandmaster’s throat. But he has no choice in the matter; the _no, never, not this_ echoing over and over in his mind are _meaningless_ , none of his fearful dissent matters, he is a powerless slut and he will do this regardless of right and wrong. He grits his teeth. Is there not a certain honor in accepting one’s fate? Even reaching for it? If this were a battle, Thor would not be afraid. He must change his perception. _Everything_ is a battle.

 

He strips off his disgust and trepidation and straddles Loki, lowering himself down, giving into the act. He thinks he understands, now. He is a liar now, too. If this is who Loki always is, he can keep it up just for now.

 

Loki’s erection has not waned, and with Thor already so open, he slips inside easily. It is somehow _so_ much different from being fucked by Grandmaster. Though Loki’s thrusts are not timid, he is not relentless either, and fucks Thor gently, caressingly, as if taking a virgin lover. Thor buries his head in Loki’s shoulder, wishing not to look in his eyes, but still finding comfort in his brother’s skin through this madness.

 

Their silence is the only strangeness. Grandmaster hums appreciatively and pinches Thor’s ass again. “Beautiful. A work of art. And to think you didn’t want this! Coulda fooled me, I mean, this, this is something else.”

 

Loki turns his head and nods. He pulls out nearly all the way; only the very tip brushes the inner rim of Thor’s hole. He feels another touch right above.

 

“Hghhhh,” he moans as Grandmaster and Loki push inside him simultaneously. He cannot breathe… he’s back in that horrible audience chamber, being pushed out of his body, only now he is fully sober, and the feeling is real, physical, the evidence is his entire backside being split open by the stretch, and he cannot ignore that this _hurts._ It’s too much, far too much, and he is thankful he has already come, because a fullness _there, too_ would certainly destroy him.

 

They do not coordinate well; Thor knows Loki is trying his hardest to ease Thor’s pain but Grandmaster seems so insistent on the opposite, and Thor cannot hold himself inside any longer. He is losing this battle, too, and he hates every being inside himself right now, _especially_ himself, and he yearns to be empty again… he bites down on Loki’s collarbone; he must defend himself somehow, fight back… but Loki doesn’t want this either…

 

“Ah!” The cry this time is not from Thor, but he thinks it is from Loki himself as he struggles to pull out of Thor as fast as he can, but it’s too late. He can feel his asshole filling and some of Loki’s come trickling out already, and it makes the pain burn even hotter. Grandmaster doesn’t stop, no, he seems even more turned on by this; he starts thrusting faster and faster...

 

A screech permeates every inch of the room, and now Thor is split open, not from his ass, but from his ears.


	5. rescue

The alarm is unmistakable, unavoidable. Thor can see the flashing lights outside even from all the way up here - it must be echoing all throughout Sakaar. Loki stops, concerned, but does not pull out.

 

Thor wrenches his neck around. Grandmaster looks like someone has just ruined his birthday party. “Well, I-I guess I’ll be right back, you two. Now, don’t you even think of leaving. That elevator will zap ya. Just-just wait for me, I’ll be right back…” He shakes his head, pulls out of Thor  _ (ouch),   _ sticks his cock back into his pants, and makes for the elevator doors. “And just when I was really getting into it…”

 

Once he’s gone, Loki immediately pulls out and stands. The absence of pressure in Thor’s ass is strange, he almost misses it after all they’ve done, but at least he has come already. He stands, too, and turns to Loki.

 

He can’t apologize, though, because Loki beats him to it. “Thor,” he pants. “I’m-I’m so sorry. I didn’t think it would ever… could ever be this bad… I had no idea… I’m sorry,” he keeps repeating, and looks more genuinely upset than Thor has seen him in years. 

 

Out of nowhere, Thor feels spite filling his heart and suddenly he has little sympathy. He snorts derisively. “Sure. Be sorry. It’s not going to make me feel any better. Loki, this isn’t something a  _ sorry  _ will fix.” Maybe he only misses the feeling of Loki inside him… no, it’s not that… he didn’t want that, he  _ doesn’t ever  _ want that… he’s only remembered that he is full of hatred for where both their mistakes have taken them.

 

“I know.”

 

“This-this isn’t okay! It’s wretched! Disgusting!” 

 

“I know, it’s not like I-”

 

“And you were defending him! You want to be with him! How can you want to be with someone who wants you to do  _ this? _ ”

 

“Thor, I’m-”

 

Thor cannot hold in this anger; it builds with each excuse Loki tries to give him unchecked. He knows he would see thunderclouds building over the city lights if he looked outside. “I can’t believe I ever wanted to help you. You are as bad as he is-”

 

“I’m not! I didn’t want-”

 

“-sometimes, Hel, all the time, I’m ashamed to call you my brother-”

 

“It’s not my fault-”

 

“And Hel, with what we’ve done now, how could I call you brother-”

 

“Stop-”

 

Suddenly, Thor hears a tapping, and he actually heeds Loki’s command as their argument is cut short.  _ Great _ , he thinks, wheeling around to look at the elevator doors which are sure to be opening, sure to be revealing Grandmaster back here to continue their torment, but wait, the alarm is still on… a flickering to the west catches his eye…

 

The Quinjet appears, cloaking device shutting off, and Valkyrie stands on its open door, bottle in hand, tapping the glass of this transparent torture chamber with it.

 

Thor’s jaw nearly drops.  _ They did it.  _ After he had almost forgotten to hope for their return.

 

Valkyrie gestures with a thumb for them to move to the side, then holds out a massive gun and shoots through the window, shattering the entire wall of it along with the toy-cabinets next to the elevator, for good measure. She raises an eyebrow at their naked forms, but doesn’t mention it. “Get in!” she commands.

 

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Thor replies, grabbing his robe from the ground. He runs for the opening and leaps into the Quinjet, knowing that the time they have to spare is minimal and Grandmaster will be back soon. 

 

Valkyrie grabs his arm, pulling him in, and he collapses on the floor, overcome with this solace and his gratefulness for Banner and his Ph.Ds. Speaking of Banner…

 

“You alright, Thor? I thought we’d never see you again,” he shouts from the cockpit. 

 

Thor turns to him. “I’m - fine. Well. I’ve been better. You don’t know how big of a mistake I made.”

 

“Oh, I think I know,” he says, and calls back to Valkyrie. “All good, Val? We need to get out of here as quickly as possible.”

 

“All good!” she yells back, and Thor can’t even look. They’re going back… or, away, at least… he doesn’t even care anymore, so long as it’s not here.

 

Well… maybe he does care. “Where are we going?” he can’t help but ask.

 

The back door of the Quinjet closes with a  _ hiss _ and Valkyrie strides confidently up to sit next to Banner in the cockpit. “Why, Asgard, of course.” She turns back to Thor and winks. 

 

Thor could kiss her. He lets his head fall back against the metal hull and closes his eyes, exhausted but filled with relief.

 

“Better?” Loki asks.

 

Thor starts; he had not been expecting Loki to join them. “Loki? Why… I thought you were staying.”

 

“Trust me, Thor, you weren’t the only one hoping for that,” Banner calls back.   
  


“Sorry to let everyone down. But I thought it unwise to stay after the three of you had escaped again,” Loki explains.

 

“Coward.” As he says it, though, Thor feels a strange swelling below his heart. He knows that it is not only fear that’s made Loki come with them.

 

“I won’t deny that,” Loki says, and Valkyrie laughs. 

 

“We’ve got a long journey, you two. With the cloaking devices on this thing, I don’t think we’ll be followed, at least not for long, but even through the Devil’s Anus it’ll be a few days until we can reach Asgard.” Valkyrie actually sounds  _ excited _ . Thor can hear the sharp sounds of a sword being sharpened from the cockpit, and he smiles. A few days, and then they’ll be back. A few days, and then they take on Hela  _ together. _

 

“How did you fix the Quinjet?” Thor asks.

 

“Valkyrie helped. She was easy to find-”

 

“I still don’t know how he convinced me of his identity, but he did-”

 

“-we were missing some parts, but with some of the junk we found just laying around on Sakaar, and some other stuff Valkyrie kindly bought for it, I was able to get it up and running in no time. You can’t even imagine how nice it was to actually be useful for once,” Banner says, and Thor can hear the pride in his voice at helping them in a way that didn’t involve turning into a giant green monster.

 

“I’m glad. See, Loki, we didn’t need your plan, anyway.” Thor doesn’t mean to be spiteful, he really doesn’t. His mood has turned,  _ really _ . He’s  _ fine.  _ Great, actually.

 

Loki says nothing. He still stands awkwardly by the back of the Quinjet, wrapped in that yellow robe, stooping slightly as to not hit his head. Thor remembers that this is not his first time in here.  _ Sit down _ , he wants to say. He knows how strange this all must be for Loki. He wonders if he regrets coming along.

 

Gratefully, Valkyrie and Banner don’t ask what they were doing in Grandmaster’s suite. It’s probably clear as day, anyway. Thor doesn’t even bother asking them how they knew they were there, or how they set a decoy alarm… truthfully, he just doesn’t care. Hela is still ahead. He needs to move on. Prepare. Forget.

 

And so, he will. He bids Valkyrie and Banner goodnight, and rests his head back once more, wishing for the rest he sorely needs.

 

* * *

 

The images flash by unbidden; Surtur, destroying Asgard; Hela, slaughtering his friends; Grandmaster, violating him; and Loki… ever-present, ever the thorn in his side… rest does not come easy. His eyes are closed, but the tears well up in them anyway. It’s… embarrassing. His enemies have grown stronger with each move he makes, and he has only grown weaker. But he is out of that cell, off of Sakaar; he is free. And here, he has the opportunity to reverse that. The hum of the engine destroys his perception of time, but the feeling of flight once more is intoxicating. Enough to keep him awake. 

 

Finally, he gives up. Shakes the stiffness from his limbs, opens his lungs, opens his eyes. 

 

It is still dark; they are in such deep space that barely any starlight reaches the cabin. Only the blinking electronic lights cast their mellow glow onto the sleeping faces of Val and Banner, uncomfortably reclining as best they can in the tight cockpit. He turns back. Loki sits across from him, eyes wide and staring somewhere above Thor, empty and unthinking, his head tipped to the side as if he’s too exhausted to hold it up.

 

“Loki? Are you okay?” Thor whispers, not wanting to wake his pilots up.

 

Loki blinks and shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

“Alright. No, I’m not. What difference does it make?”

 

Thor changes the subject. “You came with us.”

 

“Yes. I know. Don’t make me regret it.”

 

Thor smiles. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I’m glad you’re here.” He hopes he’s believed. His mood changes have been striking, he knows, but… well, a lot has happened recently. 

 

“You didn’t act like it.” Evidently, Loki isn’t ready to hear his apology right now. Thor wonders whether his own apology before they left Sakaar was real, or just empty words.

 

Thor sighs. “I was angry. Not at you, at  _ him _ . I took it out on the wrong person.”

 

“No shit. You know, I’m actually offended you thought I wanted any of that.” Loki’s voice is still dead serious.

 

“I didn’t really think it. It was just…”

 

“Easier to unload the shame on me? I understand completely.” He closes his eyes, knotting his fingers together on his lap. 

 

Thor scoots over to him. He knows his words won’t convince Loki that his apology is true, that he is more glad than he can express that Loki has chosen to come with them. Loki doesn’t respond to his movement. “I know you don’t want to hear this. But I believed you when you said you thought it was over, that Hela had already won. I even started to think it too,” he admits, voice dropping even lower. “I stopped thinking we’d ever get out. But even through all of it… I was glad I had you. Even when he was making us do things I’d never want to do to you. I knew you felt how I did, and that… well, it helped.” 

 

Loki remains silent, but stops moving his hands, instead folding them neatly in his lap. He looks cold. 

 

Thor reaches out a hand to cover them. “I’m glad you’re here. I hope you can forgive me.”

 

Loki opens his hands to let Thor’s in, grasping it with a strength Thor didn’t think him capable of, and leans his head against Thor’s shoulder. It says enough.

 

“Brothers?” he asks.

 

“Brothers,” Loki replies. The twitch against Thor’s shoulder suggests the hint of a smile on Loki’s mouth.

 

Thor can’t stop his happiness over it, and leans over to hug his brother. This time, Loki doesn’t resist, but hugs him back, nearly collapsing onto Thor’s chest in a heap of suppressed emotions. He buries his face into Thor’s neck, wetting it with tears.  _ It’ll be okay, _ Thor assures him. 

 

The stars glow brighter as they near Asgard. Their fingers twine together, and somehow, even with Hela out there, Thor starts to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy grandthorki day! fyi, most of this fic was written in about a week (and it hasn't been beta read) so I apologize if there are any errors or it seems rushed at points. i was just too excited to get it out in time :) thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on [tumblr :)](https://thorjorts.tumblr.com)


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